crack the code
by reythrace
Summary: she cannot say she hadn't thought of Frank Castle in the months since the Punisher Trial
_**I was bitten by the horrible Kastle-bug. This was churned out in just 3 hours and it might be a bit unpolished, but I just adore this pairing so much!**_

 _ **I hope you like it and please Review &Favorite if you did! **_

_**Come visit me under .com to geek out about them with me!**_

 _ **Cheers, reythrace!**_

She notices the moment she steps into her apartment.

A therapist would probably call it Hypervigelance – after she had nearly shot the third neighbor that had knocked at her door, she had googled some things – but Karen noticed the strange, unfamiliar smell as soon as she steps through her door.

She reaches for the gun in her purse and looks around.

A pair of shoes stands next to her pretty work pumps – dirtied and caked in mud. And there is an unfamiliar black coat hanging next to her jackets.

Matt or Foggy, Karen guesses, even though she hasn't spoken to either in weeks – not since Matt's revelation. Still she doesn't take a hand off her gun as she moves to the rest of her shitty apartment.

"Fuck!"

She drops her gun the moment her mind registers Frank lying on her bed – passed out and dead to the world, lying between her pillows and on her duvet. He reeks of smoke and something acidic and Karen creep closer. He doesn't look hurt – at least not where she can see.

"Fuck!"

She can't say that she has not thought of Frank Castle in the two months since she had last seen him. Of course she had – she had had nightmares of him bashing those faces in at the diner, not able to shut her brain off, even at night.

She sinks in the chair at her table and watches him. He does not move, not even as she takes off her jacket and shoes and picks her gun back up, but for the slight fall and rise of his chest.

She orders food, Indian from the little hole in the wall just a block down from her apartment, and it arrives before Frank wakes up.

He does with a loud bang, falling off her bed and crouching on the floor in one smooth motion.

They stare at each other, Frank bruised and frightened and Karen with a spoonful of Tikka Masala in her mouth. She swallows carefully and gives him a small attempt at a smile.

"Hi."

"You should have shot me on sight." Is the first thing Frank says, even before he moves to sit back down on the edge of her bed. "Don't just order food and look at me."

Karen stares at him for a moment. "Why are you here?"

"I mean it, ma'am. Don't just let strange men stay in your apartment."

"You are the strange man that broke into my apartment." Karen says, with a roll of her eyes. Typical, she thinks, how overprotective the men in her life are. Her dad was, Matt and Foggy were and now Frank is. "How did you get in here, anyways?"

"Fire escape." Frank says in what Karen can only classify as a growl. He scowls at her and gets up, moving to the chair on the other side of her table. He eyes the gun lying in front of her with some amusement and acceptance.

"Do you want some?" Karen asks, pushing a bowl of Biryani towards Frank. She had, after all, ordered for two.

"What were you doing at the Dogs of Hell Headquarter?" Frank asks instead, not even looking at the food.

Karen's mouth drops open. How does he – Had he been following her? "Have you been following me?"

"Were you following me?"

"You were at the Dogs of Hell Headquarter?"

"Yes." Frank frowns. "So you were not following me?"

"No."

"Oh."

Karen looks at Frank and frowns. He seems, almost, disappointed. "I work for the Bulletin now. I was writing a story on the new leader – who claims he will not be involved in any illegal activities."

Frank snorts. "Yeah, sure. That is bullshit."

"I know." Karen cocks her head and looks at him. "So what were you doing there-"

"Nothing."

"-And what do you smell of?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit."

"I don't know."

Karen eyes Frank carefully. He doesn't meet her eyes and toys with the spoon in front of her.

He looks disgusting, she realizes. His clothes are dirty and covered in some kind of slime. His hair is plastered to his forehead and the scruff of his beard does not hide the dirt on his face.

"If you want you can use my shower and my washing machine. You can wear some clothes of my brother. I'll lay them out for you." She announces. "You look vile."

She stands up and clears the table. Frank does not move – she cannot hear him. Still she goes to her closet and pulls out a pair of long sweats and a baseball jersey. As she returns the door to her bathroom is closed and she gently lays the clothes in front of the door.

Settling onto her bed, still smelling slightly of smoke, she grabs a book and tries to read. By the time twenty minutes have passed and Frank has emerged from the bathroom, she does not remember a single thing that happened in the book.

Frank looks, looming over the bed, ridiculous in the clothes, but he is cleaner than Karen has ever seen him and that counts for something.

They stare at each other awkwardly for a moment or two, before Karen coughs. "You can stay. If you want. For the night."

Frank looks around her apartment and takes in the one bed, one bathroom, one table and single stove and fridge that makes up her entire apartment. He raises one eyebrow as he looks at her. "I'll just sleep on the floor."

She blushes bright red, a hideous side effect of her pale hair and pale skin. "We can share. My bed is large enough."

"Again, ma'am, with the strange men thing." Frank says, though this time he seems amused. He eyes her and the bed, and Karen can practically see the wheels in his mind turning. "I'll sleep at the table. Thank you for the offer, ma'am."

"Suit yourself." Karen says and she cannot pretend what she feels is not relief. Maybe inviting a convicted mass murderer into her bed – even for the most innocent of intentions – was not the brightest idea she had ever had. "I'm going to sleep now."

"Alright." He says softly. They stare at each other for a few moments before Karen clips off the light and she closes her eyes, trying to ignore the second heartbeat in the room.

"Good night, ma'am." He says into the darkness.

"Good night Frank."

The last thing Karen sees before she falls asleep is Frank's head pillowed on his arms. When she wakes up the next morning, the first thing she notices is how warm she feels.

Sometime during the night, Frank had slipped into her bed, Karen realizes as she wakes up more. He looks peaceful then, still completely asleep. His face is relaxed and he breathes evenly.

Frank does not wake up as Karen showers, changes and gets ready for work. He does not wake up as she leaves her apartment, not locking it behind her just in case.

When she returns from work late in the evening, Karen knows from the moment she steps into the door that he is no longer in the apartment.

Her duvet and sheets are washed, dried and ironed. The dishes she had left in the sink that morning are cleaned and in the drying rack and there is a note on her fridge.

 _Thank you._

 _Don't let strange men into your house again, Karen._


End file.
